


Blue Jeans

by TheLonelySheWolf



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Cherik - Freeform, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik is just obsessed with Charles' ass, Fluff, M/M, Modern Setting, Professor Charles - Freeform, Professor Erik, Roomates, Slow Build, Smut, University, and mouth, ass fixation, set in Genosha, shaw is always an asshole, some of the suggested tags coming up are just, still have powers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9287849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelySheWolf/pseuds/TheLonelySheWolf
Summary: When the Architecture and Engineering department decides to remove one of Professor Lehnsherr's courses from the curriculum, Erik suddenly finds his financial position compromised. Friend and colleague Dr. Emma Frost suggests he finds a roommate - after all, his city-view apartment has more than enough room for two.What Erik doesn't expect, is to open his front door and find the most aesthetically pleasing ass he's ever seen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Butterynutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterynutjob/gifts).



> This was born primarily from seeing James' lovely behind in Trance recently. I feel like there was also a gif or something responsible, but I've already forgotten. Dedicating this to Butterynutjob, who I promised to write a fic for ages ago as a thanks for being my Cherik inspiration with your own lovely works. 
> 
> Editing is entirely my own (trying to find Betas in their natural habitat, but I'm no Attenbro), so hopefully mistakes are minimal. 
> 
> Artwork was thrown together by me (still can't do digital art to save my life.)

  [](http://tinypic.com?ref=71qtn7)

 

Erik felt Frost’s eyes on him, but she remained silent as he tipped back his scotch. The bar was quieter than what he’d become used to, but then again, Erik didn’t drink on weeknights. Today called for an exception.

“It’s Shaw, isn’t it? What did he say?”

“I told you to keep out of my head,” Erik groused at her, his glass noisily clunking onto the countertop. No one spared them a second glance, even with Emma so brazenly dressed in white.

She smiled at him knowingly, without warmth, idly tracing the rim of her Riesling. “I didn’t even peek. You’ve been in a foul mood since your meeting this morning; it isn’t difficult to guess.”

Erik sighed, shoulders slumping mildly in defeat. Damn her.

“He’s cutting one of my classes from the curriculum.”

To her credit, even Emma seemed surprised. “Why would he do that?”

“Cutting back on costs,” Erik said, jaw clenching. “He said the enrolments were too low to continue with it next year. The department is struggling with funding apparently.”

Emma hummed thoughtfully. It didn’t affect her, of course. The Communication and Languages department was at an all-time high with enrolments. Still, she seemed interested. She was perhaps as close to a friend as Erik had found since finishing his PhD and becoming a professor at Selwyn University.

“Where does that leave you?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her hair was slicked back in a tight bun today, and she was all business in her pristine pantsuit and heels. “Surely Shaw won’t just drop you.”

“No. I still have _Architecture Basics_ and _Advanced Design_ , but without _Design Principles_ _in Metalwork_ I’ll have to rely on fill-in jobs to keep a steady income.”

“You’d manage just fine if you gave up that ridiculous apartment.”

Erik managed to keep his expression indifferent even as a spark of hot anger flared at the accusation. Clashing against Emma was nothing new. Even while they were as different as fire and ice, they were perhaps still a little _too_ similar to each other, which led to unavoidable conflict. Yes, Erik’s apartment was admittedly a little too showy for his needs, but he’d put down a large deposit on it with his parent’s inheritance, as per their wishes. _Find a place worth calling home,_ they’d said. It didn’t quite feel like _home_ just yet, and Erik wasn’t sure anywhere would ever evoke the same warmth of the house he’d grown up in with his parents. But still, it had become a sanctuary for him. An eagle’s nest that made his troubles seem distant, like the pedestrians scurrying about on the streets far below. It was all he had left of his parents, and he was reluctant to let it go.

“Fine,” Emma said, rolling her eyes. “If you won’t give it up, what about a roommate? That’d help with the ridiculous rates and your other expenses. I’m sure it’d be easy enough to find someone interested in that kind of view.”

Erik was ready to dismiss the idea immediately, but found himself lingering on it. If—a pretty big _if_ mind you—he could find someone passable to consider living with him, then it may not be such a terrible idea. A great deal of Erik’s income was spent just on the mortgage, let alone the other expenses that came with running an apartment. Even so, he wasn’t prepared to admit that Emma was right.

“ _If_ I were to consider it, how would I go about finding someone suitable?”

Emma smirked, but chose to keep any verbal victory jabs to herself. “I’d look at online ads: run some interviews, make sure they have decent referrals, that kind of thing. You can usually tell what kind of person you’re dealing with if you know what questions to ask.”

“If you’re a telepath, perhaps,” Erik grumbled.

“It has its perks,” she agreed. “I could do the interviews, but I don’t know what you want exactly.”

“In other words, you don’t want to.”

“See, you’re already good at it. You don’t need me, sugar.”

Erik rolled his eyes, but figured he’d get nowhere further with her. He downed the rest of his scotch and stood to leave. He had roommate ads to look up.

 

 

*~*~*~*

 

 

Erik was back at the bar again, two weeks later, head cushioned on his arm. Emma was in a dress this time, white of course (did she actually own anything else?), eyeing him skeptically.

“Are you sure you aren’t just being fussy?” she asked, clearly thinking that he was, indeed, being fussy. It was no secret that Erik was a harsh marker. He just thought it’d push the students to work harder. Usually, that was the case. Though it may have explained the drop in enrolments as his reputation became increasingly known.

“Emma,” he groaned, slightly muffled by his arm. “I interviewed nearly two-dozen applicants. It’s not for a lack of trying.”

“I didn’t say you _weren’t trying,_ I said you were being _fussy._ What was it that made them all so awful?”

Erik jerked upright, suppressing the urge to throw his hands up. “You mean aside from being mutant-hating, homophobic, drug-addicts or slobs? Or a combination of all the above?”

“I don’t see how them being homophobic would matter. It’s not as though you have a sex life, anyway.”

“Fuck off,” Erik snapped, glaring at his half-empty glass. She knew better than to bring it up.

Emma laughed, which only grated on him further. “You might want to reconsider when I share my good news with you.”

Erik grudgingly raised his eyes again. “Which is?”

“I might have the answer to your current predicament.” She smiled at him, and as always, it lacked warmth. He’d never seen a smile touch her eyes yet. “I have a friend at the university that is looking for accommodation. He’s recently finished his PhD, and needs housing outside the colleges while he settles into his new teaching role.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-three.”

“And he’s already finished his PhD?” Erik asked, disbelieving.

“Yes. He’s studied genetics, biophysics, psychology, anthropology and psychiatry.”

Erik blinked at her rapidly, ignoring her obvious amusement. “How—”

“Oh, and he’s a mutant too. A strong one in fact,” she continued, cutting him off. “One of his good friends is also gay, so that’s not a concern either.”

“Alright, what’s the catch?” Erik demanded, not trusting the sound of this man, and definitely not trusting Emma. He’d been caught out too many times by her games. She had a twisted sense of humor.

She shrugged. “I suppose he isn’t as much as a neat-freak as you. For anyone else it probably wouldn’t matter, but you’re hard to please Lehnsherr.”

So long as the mess was contained to his room, Erik could live with it. Most likely. Besides, he was getting desperate now. He doubted any other future applicants would be better than the last.

“Fine, I’ll interview him. Pass on my email address.”

Emma smirked, tipping back the last of her wine. “If this works out, you owe me, sugar.”

Erik preferred to disagree.

 

*~*~*~*

 

That was how, three days later, Erik was halfway through his second coffee when he heard a knock at his door. The potential roommate, obviously. He already imagined a reedy kid with spectacles and an awful haircut standing nervously out in the hall. Erik shook his head at the thought, steeling himself. Looks were irrelevant, it only mattered how he’d behave as a roommate.

By the time Erik opened the door, the kid had already distracted himself by bending over to examine the plant standing out in the hall. Erik blinked rapidly at the view, finding himself confronted by a pair of blue jeans snuggly fitted against the nicest ass he’d ever seen. Erik cleared his throat.

“Oh!” the man started in a posh British accent, standing up abruptly and turning around. “So sorry, I was just admiring your lovely lilies. I haven’t seen any oriental varieties since I left home. Oh but where are my manners? I’m Charles – Charles Xavier.” He extended a hand.

Erik remained gob smacked, blatantly staring at him. He was almost the exact opposite of what Erik had imagined. Brilliant blue eyes the color of a summer sky, floppy brown hair that was messy in an endearing way, and arms that certainly didn’t say _academic._ The lilac sweater clinging to his biceps suggested that he’d somehow still managed to have time for sport or gym between studying.

Charles’ smile slowly faded as Erik continued to stare, his eyes flicking down to look at the shorter man’s impossibly red lips, the bottom one snagged between his teeth in a nervous habit. “I’m sorry, do I have the wrong address?” Charles started. “Perhaps I should go—”

“No, wait!” Erik blurted as Charles turned to leave. “I, uh, sorry, you weren’t what I was expecting.”

“Oh,” Charles said, looking a little disheartened. “If I don’t suit your expectations, I can—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Erik said shortly, moving back inside. “Come in.”

He stood back to let Charles pass him before closing the front door behind them. Charles followed him quietly as he headed to the rear of the apartment, letting out the occasional hum of acknowledgement or appreciation as they passed Erik’s art collection.

“Take a seat,” Erik told him when they reached the living room, moving over to the adjoining kitchen. His living, dining and kitchen were in an open plan room—a rather large one—with floor to ceiling windows lining the main wall. The view beyond was spectacular, and one that Erik was loathe to give up. Charles seemed to share his sentiment.

“Mr Lehnsherr, this is an incredible view.”

“Just Erik,” he called over, watching with amusement as the professor wandered over to the windows. The Genosha skyline certainly looked better during the darker hours, but Erik figured someone with Charles’ qualifications could surely work that out for himself. “Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

“I’d love a tea, actually,” Charles said, coming back over. He was smiling openly, his eyes still a little absent-minded from the view. “Earl Grey if you have it, otherwise anything with milk and two sugars.”

Erik’s mouth quirked a little at the choice. He boiled the kettle regardless, pouring himself a black coffee. He kept sugar on hand for Emma when she came to visit, and the milk was still a necessity. The teabags though, weren’t quite what had been advised, but they would do.

Erik took both mugs over to the sofa, placing the tea in front of Charles on the table. Charles accepted it with thanks, sipping from it quietly. Erik blinked and looked back at his own coffee, at risk of being distracted by those red lips. Surely they required a permit.

He cleared his throat. “We should get started. Emma gave me a few details, but I have some basic questions to ask, and you can ask me any you deem necessary in return.”

Charles nodded, clutching his tea between his fingers, as though cold. Nerves, maybe.

“Right. So, financially, what security do you have to offer? I’m asking for a forty percent contribution, which includes electricity, rent, water, and Wi-Fi. I need someone that can give reliable payments.”

“Of course,” Charles agreed, nodding. “I have a reasonable salary coming from the University, but I also have a considerable trust fund to fall back on should it come to that.”

Right, no issues there then. “What’s your schedule like, typically? Do you have any late activities or social gatherings that might interfere with my routine?”

Charles mouth quirked a little, but he was entirely serious as he answered, “I work during the day, much the same as I imagine you do, though I may give the occasional evening lecture when required. I’d be home before nine o’clock in such instances. I occasionally … go out on weekends. If returning home late would be an issue, I can ensure that I stay elsewhere for the night. Social activities generally occur away from home—as you can probably imagine, college rooms are too small for such things—however, my sister Raven may come to visit, though I’d be sure to arrange it with you first of course.”

“That sounds … acceptable,” Erik allowed, taking a sip from his mug. It sounded too good to be true, actually. Some may have thought he’d struck gold, but Erik was too smart for that. There had to be a catch, somewhere.

“What are your views on mutants?” Erik pressed, training his sharp gaze on Charles. He seemed surprised by the question, but remained otherwise impassive.

“As someone that specializes in mutations and as a mutant myself, I certainly have no issue with anyone else that identifies as such. Though I’m not sure how this relates to a boarding agreement.” He made it sound like a question.

“I wouldn’t want a potential housemate to panic if he saw me using my mutation. I use it quite regularly when I’m at home.”

Charles beamed at him. “Another mutant! How extraordinary, my friend. I’m familiar with Emma’s talents of course, being a fellow telepath. But what exactly, is your mutation if I might ask?”

“Metal manipulation, primarily.”

Charles looked completely enraptured by him. It didn’t take a telepath to know that the professor was bursting full of questions. Speaking of which—

“You’re a telepath, then?” Erik asked, both curious and suspicious. He was always on guard around Emma, whom he only saw in small doses, so the possibility of having to watch his thoughts at _home…_

“I know what you’re thinking, but,” Charles started. He visibly cringed, giving an apologetic smile. “Sorry, not the best choice of words I’m afraid. What I mean to say is, I can understand that you’d be concerned about a breach of privacy from the use of my mutation, but I can only assure you that I am very strict about entering the minds of others unless I’m given explicit permission. I’ve learnt over the years how to keep up strong wards, so only _very_ loud thoughts come through if my attention slips.”

So Erik would need to take his word for it. Though the man— _Charles—_ seemed trustworthy. Erik liked to think he’d become a good judge of character over the years; in many ways he’d _had_ to be.

He gave a small nod, moving back through his list of questions. The last one. Erik took a sip of his coffee, resisting the urge to clear his throat—a gesture that would be achingly obvious. “And your view of homosexuality?” Charles visibly started at this, so Erik hurried to explain. “If I bring home any male partners in the future I wouldn’t want either of us to be met with open hostility.”

Charles smiled, in a way that suggested he was keeping something to himself. “Of course. No, my friend. I’m very open-minded about the sexuality of others. The same goes for gender, race and religion. I believe we’re all entitled to identify and express ourselves freely.” He frowned a little. “Providing of course that such expression does not cause harm to others. Certain extremists can often cross the line, which is something I certainly _do not_ agree with.”

Erik nodded in agreement, and then paused. Charles was essentially the perfect housemate. Unless he turned out to be a massive gambler or to have split personalities or something else _drastic_ , there was nothing he could really fault.

“Very well then,” Erik sighed. “The room is yours if you want it.”

Charles smiled at him. “Excellent. When do I move in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a fun fact: 'Selwyn' comes from the college I stayed in during a two week exchange to Cambridge University. 
> 
> Also, I'll be trying to include more fun art as the story goes along. However, if you have anything that you think would compliment this, feel free to let me know! I can also be found on Tumblr at thelonelyshe-wolf.tumblr.com for updates and chats. =)


	2. Chapter 2

 

That Saturday, Erik found himself helping Charles lug his possessions up to the apartment. He didn’t own much, which made the process easier, but the astounding amount of books certainly made up for it. Dozens of thick volumes from his studies were stacked neatly in boxes, and that was without counting his collection of fiction.

“Where are you going to fit all of these?” Erik asked, not at all annoyed by the amount, but certainly curious as to where the professor planned to keep them.

“I was thinking of investing in a bookshelf to go against the far wall. Provided that’s okay with you.” After agreeing to move in, Charles had seen what would become his bedroom, and Erik had to admit their priorities were a little backwards. But Charles had been pleased with the space, and hadn’t retracted his agreement.

“It’s your room,” Erik said in dismissal. “Do what you want with it. Unless you’re planning to paint or do something else that’s not so easily removed. It’s not out of the question, but I’d rather you consult me first.”

Charles smiled at him, now perched on the edge of the bed. Like the rest of the house, the spare room was very minimalist, with only a bed, two side tables and the built-in closet. Beside the closet, a door led to the adjoining en-suite. Erik doubted the room would remain bare for long. While he preferred cool colors and steel, he imagined Charles would much prefer warmth in his environment, especially in such a large space. A wooden bookcase would undoubtedly be the first of many changes, though Erik found he didn’t mind at all. Especially while Charles was thoughtfully chewing on a very red lip.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Erik told him, heading for the door. Charles would need to unpack, and Erik had project proposals to grade for one of his classes.

“Thank you, Erik. If you need help with anything around the apartment, please let me know.”

Erik gave him a small smile and nod, and left him to it. Setting himself up at the dining table with a mug of coffee, Erik opened his laptop and gave his inbox a quick check. An extension request from a student, which was accompanied by a doctor’s certificate. Normally he resented giving extensions, knowing it only encouraged students to leave things until the last minute, but in this case, he knew he’d have to relent.

The next email was from Emma, checking in on ‘the new roommate’. He typed in _fine_ and sent it, knowing how much his curtness infuriated the literature professor.

An email from Shaw was flagged as important. Erik took a long draught of coffee before opening it. An outline of next semester’s curriculum, with the details of enrolment numbers and dates. Erik’s jaw clenched as he took in his schedule, the increase in blank time slots painfully noticeable. He’d expected as much, but he couldn’t suppress the surge of anger and frustration that heated his blood.

He sat there simmering over it for a few minutes, before pinning it to review later and closing the browser. The sound of footsteps came from up the hall, and a moment later, Charles emerged.

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I thought I’d come find out why I felt the sudden urge to strangle someone a few moments ago,” he started, making himself at home on the other side of the table. “I’ll admit that I relax my shields a little when I’m at home, but it must have been quite potent to breach them so aggressively.”

Erik wasn’t sure if he should be mad for the intrusion or apologize for the disturbance. Clearly, living with a telepath was going to take some getting used to. He wasn’t sure where the lines should be drawn, and how to tell when they were being crossed.

“I’m not sure if that’s something I should be apologizing for,” Erik told him.

Charles waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t expect anything of the sort. This is, after all, your home. If there’s anywhere you should feel free to express yourself, it’s here. No, I merely came out here from polite concern. If you’d rather I didn’t involve myself in your affairs, I will happily take my leave. In fact, I really shouldn’t have asked at all. It was rather presumptuous of me to come out here and offer any kind of input. I haven’t even been here for a full day yet, and here I am already trying to fix your problems. I think I’ll excuse myself now, my apologies for the interruption,” he said all in a rush, standing abruptly to leave.

“Sit down,” Erik said, feeling nothing but amused by the flustered telepath. A touch of pink had risen up into his cheeks, which only seemed to intensify as Charles sank back down into his chair. Erik couldn’t help but smirk as Charles looked everywhere but at him. “I just opened an email from my head of department. It outlines next semester’s timetable. There’s a lot of blank spaces—which I was expecting—but I suppose I still haven’t accepted the cut backs, even after getting a roommate to compensate for it.”

“Oh,” Charles said, finally looking at him. “I understand how that would be difficult for you. Can I do anything to help? Perhaps a distraction?”

The first distraction that came to mind for Erik involved putting those lovely red lips to use. _Oh fuck,_ he thought, noticing how Charles had averted his eyes again. He was going to drill Emma to teach him how to quieten his thoughts. Immediately.

“Sorry. Um,” he glanced around the apartment, trying to quickly come up with a suggestion. “Do you play chess?” The board was sat unused, collecting dust on a corner table. Erik hadn’t quite managed to make himself pack it away just yet, fond as he was of the lovely metallic finish of the pieces.

Charles smiled and flicked his eyes back up. If there was any relief for the change in subject, he didn’t show it to Erik. Perhaps he hadn’t heard after all. “Yes, I do. I haven’t for quite some time actually, not since my freshman year, but I think I should manage well enough.”

Erik nodded. “I’m probably a little rusty myself.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined that rust would be an issue with your mutation,” Charles quipped, rising from his chair. Erik shook his head, unable to suppress a small smile.

After placing his mug in the dishwasher and pouring cool drinks for the both of them, Erik joined Charles over by the chessboard, noting with amusement that he’d opted to sit on the white side of the board. Erik made no comment, passing Charles his glass as he sank into the opposing chair.

While they may have both been out of practice, or perhaps because of it, the game proved to be challenging for them both. It quickly became apparent that they were a good match for each other, nearing on the same level of skill. Charles won the first round, and Erik the second.

“Best of three?” Charles prompted, draining his re-filled glass.

Erik nodded. “After dinner?”

“Oh,” Charles said, looking at his watch. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” It was a little after six o’clock already.

“Do you eat Chinese? There’s a decent place down the street, I have the menu around here somewhere.”

“Indeed I do,” Charles said, grabbing their glasses and taking them over to the kitchen. Outside, the city was beginning to light up.

Dinner passed with easy conversation, and was followed by the third round, which Erik won. It had been close though. Afterwards, they both retired to their rooms, Charles needing to finish his unpacking, while Erik had to grade the papers he’d neglected that morning.

*~*~*~*

The rest of the week consisted of them establishing a routine. Gradually, Charles’ presence became obvious, in very small ways. From the tea that appeared next to Erik’s coffee, to the clothes that joined his on the drying rack in the laundry. They danced around each other, clearly uncertain of how to live within each other’s space, and some days, Erik only saw Charles at dinner time, when they’d cook around each other.  

Emma harassed him during their regular Thursday coffee break, asking Erik to spill more details on adjusting to the new roommate.

“He’s fine.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So you’ve already told me, in your emails. You have to give me more than that. Don’t make me harass Charles for details.”

“Be my guest.”

“You really are a piece of work, Lehnsherr.”

“Takes one to know one,” he returned, smirking.

It was on Saturday that Erik felt inspired to try something different. He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, and it _did_ seem out of character for him. Perhaps having lunch with his mother had sparked the good mood. He really should make the effort to visit her more often.

Either way, he took his suggestion to Charles, asking if he’d like Erik to cook for the both of them that night. His culinary skills were certainly nothing to sniff at, and he missed being able to share them with someone else. Luckily, Charles wasn’t at all averse to the idea.

While Erik cooked, Charles set the table for the two of them. As the meal was being served, Charles also procured a bottle of wine, adding it to the table along with a pair of glasses.

Erik quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I thought we might celebrate our agreement. A housewarming, of sorts,” Charles explained, looking distinctively uncertain.

Erik, surprised but moved all the same, gave him a small smile of acceptance. “Thank you. It’s lucky I chose to cook then.” Somehow, he doubted Charles would have minded either way. The label told Erik that it was an expensive drop, and found it reflected in the taste. He was more one for martinis or hard liquor, but he knew wine well enough to appreciate it.

“So, you teach genetics then?” Erik asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen while they ate. Charles nodded, his mouth full.

“I studied genetics, biophysics, psychology, and anthropology mainly. I decided to mix in some psychiatry too. I thought it would complement my mutation.”

“And did it?”

Charles was contemplative for a moment. “In some ways, yes. I’ve learnt though, that the human mind is a great deal more complex than we yet understand. The emergence of telepaths through mutation certainly means that we now have room to expand our knowledge. It’s something I’d like to research myself, using my telepathy, though I can’t say I’ve had many volunteers step forward to allow me to pick their brains. Even my sister has made it clear that I’m to _keep out._ ” His bitterness was obvious. Erik felt a surge of sympathy, remembering the acute loneliness that came from being different. Erik had left that kind of separation behind by moving to Genosha. Here, mutants were accepted more than anywhere else in the world, and Erik had met more like-minded people in his first year here than during the entirety of his younger years. However, telepaths were still the most feared and resented of all. For Charles to still lack the same acceptance by his own kind … it must be difficult.

“I’m sorry,” Erik started, watching Charles’ eyes widen marginally. “It’s a shame that even here, you’re subjected to the same prejudice so many of us received from baseline humans. _You_ certainly can’t choose your mutation. Perhaps it comes only through my own exposure to it, but I think telepathy is an exquisite mutation to have. The power you have must be extraordinary.”

Charles was blushing now, quickly moving to take another gulp of his wine. Erik could already imagine how entertaining it would be to fluster the telepath, something that was apparently easy to do. Not even loud thoughts would be necessary.

“I—um, that is, thank you.” The smile Charles gave him was positively radiant. Erik knew somehow, that Charles didn’t often receive compliments for his _mutation._ Other things, perhaps, but certainly not the one thing that certainly mattered most to a mutant. “It’s only a shame that I can’t really use it. _Your_ mutation would have dozens of uses, even just in in your day-to-day activities. I can’t say the same for mine, not when I refuse to read another’s thoughts without their permission. The enhanced memory is perhaps the only useful quality.”

What a _waste._

“You can control how much you read from a person, can’t you?” Erik asked.

Charles nodded. “Surface thoughts tend to leak in without my shields up, especially loud ones or those that are _about_ me. Memories and subconscious thoughts take more effort. For that, I’d have to consciously make the effort to enter their mind.”

Erik jumped back and forth between his decision, chewing on a piece of chicken as an excuse for his silence. Charles looked contemplative himself, nursing his glass as he stared out at the glittering skyline.

“What would be required of your ‘volunteers’?” Erik asked, finally.

Charles looked at him, his eyes a little glassy. He blinked a few times, seeming to come back to himself. “Just their time, really. It would be entirely up to them how deep I go with my analysis. It’s certainly going to be difficult to back my research with evidence, other than my own notes, but I’d still like to explore all possibilities. In addition to the structure of the human mind, I’d like to study any noticeable differences between the mind of a baseline human and a mutant. Is it only our obvious gifts that come though evolution? Or do we have other, common genetic enhancements? There’s still so much left to explore, and so little research in the field.”

The passion Charles held for his research was obvious. Erik held the same love for his work with metal, and felt rather touched to find another mutant with a similar drive to his own. He knew then, what needed to be done.

“I’ll do it,” Erik said, jaw set. Charles blinked at him, glass halfway to his mouth. “I’ll be your lab rat. That’s the mutant side covered then at least.”

Charles still appeared to have a short circuit somewhere. Erik’s lips curved up. It was adorable, really. It didn’t take a telepath to know how much this meant to Charles.

“I–you’re sure? You don’t need to feel _obliged_ or anything, under the circumstances. I understand that no one feels comfortable having a telepath rummage through their head–” Charles was used to the rejection, the fear. It disgusted Erik.

“Charles,” Erik interrupted. “Don’t. Stop making excuses. I’m more than willing.”

“Do you realize what you’re agreeing to?” Charles pressed, his mouth set in a grim line. Still stubborn, still waiting for the fall. Erik knew the doubt all too well, had been there himself more often than not. _Not good enough, too weak. Couldn’t even save your own fiancée._

Erik clenched his jaw, ignored the dull ache in his chest. “Yes. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.” No more running, no hiding. _Bloody hell,_ not even a week with this man, and he’d already signed over his soul. Or his brain. The possibilities were dangerous. Erik needed to be careful, lest he find himself doing something drastically foolish. Well, more foolish than this.

Still, as Charles beamed at him, a tingle of disbelief and joy brushing the back of Erik’s mind— _he’s even projecting it, for goodness sake—_ he couldn’t bring himself to feel the slightest bit of regret for his decision. 

_What have I gotten myself into?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any mishaps with the editing. I gave it a look-over while my eyeballs felt heavy enough to drop out of my head. I'll fix it up later if need be!

 

Taking in the group of thirty or so university staff, with their variety of extra limbs, fangs and unusual skin, Charles was pleasantly overwhelmed. He found them absolutely _fascinating_. These were of course, only the professors from the Department of Sciences. Emma Frost, the acquaintance that had persuaded him to apply for a position at Selwyn University (and of course, had found him his current accommodation with yet another mutant), was not only a fellow telepath, but located in an entirely separate division. To Charles, it seemed that the staff of the university was almost entirely comprised of mutants.

“You must be Professor Xavier,” a feminine voice said from beside him. Without reading her thoughts, Charles couldn’t tell much about her, instead taking in her slight build and large, brown eyes. She was dressed neatly, wearing grey slacks and a matching blazer.

“Yes. Yes, indeed,” Charles started, offering his hand. “But please, just Charles. I’m afraid I don’t know anyone here just yet.”

She smiled at him warmly. “It must have been quite the move to come to Genosha. I’m Professor Moira MacTaggert. I teach courses in Criminology.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize there were members here from other departments,” Charles confessed, looking around with fresh eyes.

“There’s only a few of us,” Moira admitted, “But being a social event rather than an official faculty meeting, it’s not unwelcome. Some of us have friendships across departments from our time together as students. The majority of staff grew up here in Genosha.”

Charles was entirely the outsider here then. He didn’t let it bother him though, he’d mingled easily enough when jumping from one university to the next. At least here, it seemed he had his status as a mutant in common with the majority.

“Any advice for a newcomer?” Charles asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

Moira shook her head with a smile. “Not really. Just follow the basic procedures and you’ll be fine. Oh, actually, avoid the coffee in the staff rooms. Head down to the _Aroma_ coffee shop instead if you value your taste buds.”

Charles chuckled, watching as two of the other Professors started gesturing wildly with their hands in what seemed to be a heated debate. There was a great deal of loud thoughts pouring over from that side of the room, sliding off the wards Charles was keeping up high.

“I suppose its fortunate that I drink tea then,” he mused.

Moira gave a small laugh, wishing him all the best and heading off when she spotted another friend of hers. Charles wasn’t left alone for very long though. A familiar head of blonde came through the door, her gaze already focused on him intently. It seemed Emma still had no reservations about using her mutation, immediately locating him in the small, though crowded, room.

“Charles!” she started, giving him a brilliant smile as she reached him. She was all cool airs and graces, dressed brighter than a snowflake, but in a way that seemed all class. She’d always maintained the same chilly aura, even while Charles knew she secretly had a heart of gold. He’d almost count it as a third mutation, though he’d often speculated it could be attributed to her secondary, diamond form. Only her sparkling eyes hinted at the hidden layers of her gift.

“Emma,” he greeted her fondly, kissing her on the cheek. “I’d rather hoped to see you sooner, you know.”

She shrugged, somewhat apologetically. “Sorry sugar, I couldn’t miss the conference in Cambridge.” And a couple of weeks spent shopping, he imagined.

Since arriving in Genosha five weeks ago, Charles had only spoken to her on the phone a few times, mostly to arrange his new accommodation. He’d stayed in a hotel for the first week, his few possessions kept in storage, before moving in rather quickly with Erik Lehnsherr. He had Emma to thank for the prompt arrangements.

The month that had followed in the new apartment had been pleasant on all accounts. Considering how short notice the move had been, Charles considered himself very lucky to have found a housemate as pleasant as Erik. They kept to themselves during the week, busy with their own work arrangements and shared chores, saying brief hellos if they happened to pass one another in the evenings. Some nights, they shared the living space, Erik eating dinner at the table while Charles prepared his own. During those times, they discussed work, new projects, science, pop culture, news, or anything else that took their fancy, though Charles knew it was time that should’ve been spent on his new paper. He couldn’t bring himself to mind too much–Erik was an excellent conversationalist.

It became almost a ritual to spend their Saturday evenings together. One of them cooked, or they ordered takeout, and a game of chess accompanied by good scotch was sure to follow. Charles once spent his Saturday evenings out at a bar or club, drinking whatever seemed appropriate for the night, chatting up whichever man or woman took his fancy. Sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows that displayed the city lights, like a sea of stars, with good drink and company, seemed to have put him off any attempts to continue his college habits. Erik didn’t seem to mind the arrangement either, though to Charles, he didn’t seem much of a partygoer.

“I understand, entirely,” Charles reassured her. “I did visit Cambridge once, beautiful town. I trust your conference went well?”

Emma shrugged. “It was… interesting. Though half the academics present had their minds elsewhere. They were awfully distracting.”

“That’s what shields are for,” Charles reminded her, “Something you excel at if I remember correctly.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Save me the lecture, sugar.”

 “Something _I’m_ rather good at.” Charles had been told by both Emma and Raven on multiple occasions. He didn’t mind the accusations; he was _technically_ a professional lecturer now. It was something Raven had groaned at whenever he pointedly mentioned it in his own defense.

  “We should have a proper catch up, away from all the other stuffy professors,” Emma whispered to him privately, pointedly eyeing the two still locked in a steadfast debate. “You can tell me all about the joys of living with Mr Grouch.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s not as unpleasant as you made him seem, you know. I think it’s more a case that you two are _too_ similar for your own good.”

“I’d rather go _without_ the comparison, thank you.”

“Only because you know I’m right.”

Emma huffed. “I actually came here to tell you something, you know.”

“I don’t know, actually. You may not have noticed, but I’m not one to go poking around in your head,” Charles told her. “And you’re trying to change the subject.”

“Well, if you deigned to use your mutation you’d know that I have a post-grad student lined up for you. He’s specializing in genetics, so I recommended he go to you.”

While Emma taught literature and communication based subjects, she was one of the head organizers of the postgraduate programs. There were five in total, from varying departments. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she’d pick out candidates for him.

“You don’t think I’m too inexperienced for supervising?” he asked her.

“ _Charles,”_ she said in a way that was entirely dismissive. “You have one the most outstanding academic records of anyone your age. As for any kind of inexperience, you’re fresh out of your own PhD, so you know better than anyone what it’s like to be in a postgraduate’s shoes. I doubt you’ll have any trouble giving him the support he needs. Not that he’ll need much anyway; he’s an absolute genius.”

“And he’s studying genetics?”

“Among other things. It’s all very _science-y,_ so I’m sure it’ll be right up your alley. He does need a second supervisor, for the engineering side of things. I have someone in mind already. I’m terrified to imagine what the combined power of your three minds will come up with.”

“Well, I’m certainly interested in meeting with him to discuss where he’d like to go.”

Emma smiled. “I knew you’d see reason. I’ll make the arrangements this week. In the meantime, you owe me a coffee date.”

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Charles met Henry McCoy the following Friday. He’d hoped to mention the assignment to Erik during the week, to see if he’d ever supervised for students before, but they’d both been bogged down with work—with Erik only returning late in the evenings—and hadn’t managed much more than the occasional ‘hello’.

Hank—the use of the nickname following the boy’s insistence—was every bit as bright as Emma had painted him. Tall and lanky, with spectacles that framed very blue eyes, he appeared human. Charles wondered if perhaps intelligence was Hank’s mutation, though he didn’t feel comfortable asking, or using his telepathy to find out.

The lab was empty, and would be until mid-afternoon, so when Charles heard the door creak open he assumed it would be Hank’s supervisor for the engineering aspects of his PhD.

What he _didn’t_ expect was to see Erik Lehnsherr coming through the door. Though, to be fair, Erik looked just at baffled to see him.

“Are you Hank’s other supervisor, then?” Charles asked after a long moment, breaking the tension. Hank, oblivious to the staring match between them, was thoroughly absorbed in his microscope.

Erik nodded, still lingering by the door. “I specialized in engineering. The architecture came later.”

“Oh, well then. Please do join us. Hank was just showing me his work.” Charles was certainly surprised by the arrangement, but no less pleased. Erik had proven to be good company; Charles hoped he would be just as pleasant to work with.

 Later that evening, as Charles prepared dinner, Erik said, “You never mentioned that you were planning to supervise this year.”

“I didn’t really have the chance. Emma sprung it on me at the faculty gathering on Monday,” he explained as he stirred the contents of the saucepan. “I haven’t seen you for long enough this week to say more than two words to you.”

Erik was perched on a stool on the opposite side of the floating counter, so Charles saw his nod of acceptance. Whoever deigned to put a stove top in the middle of the kitchen was a daft fool, as far as Charles was concerned. Especially when there was already another one against the wall. The kitchen was enormous, almost ridiculously so. It suited the needs of two independent men well enough though, so Charles supposed he really shouldn’t complain.

“Have you supervised for anyone before?” Charles asked.

Erik kept his gaze downward, thumbing his glass of scotch thoughtfully. “Shaw always sent them to one of the other professors. I’m the top of my field, my mutation giving me an advantage of course, but he always had an excuse.” He said it factually, without arrogance. Charles didn’t take Erik as the type to keep tickets on himself, so if he said he was the best, then Charles believed him. “Shaw was my supervisor when I did my own postgraduate studies. As head of the department, I thought he’d be the better option, but he’s done nothing but give me hell since I joined the staff.”

“Why don’t you change to a different university?” Charles asked, horrified. “Surely you shouldn’t have to work under that kind of discrimination.”

Erik shook his head. “I have a home here; I’m not leaving because of one asshole. And Genosha has the largest mutant population, my skills are more useful here.”

Charles wondered what it was like, having a place to call home. The mansion in Westchester hadn’t come even remotely close to the warmth that people seemed to associate with home. College had been a kind of sanctuary—though a small room was hardly fit for Charles, especially now that he felt more ready to settle. Maybe he’d yet find his own place, somewhere worth returning to each day. Erik’s apartment was as close as he’d yet come, and Charles was merely a boarder.  

“Why did Shaw choose to send you to Hank then?” he asked, finally, pulling up the stool next to Erik as he tucked into dinner.

“He didn’t. Emma put the suggestion forward as a head coordinator. This is her first year in the position. I doubt he’s ever been challenged before.”

Charles hummed thoughtfully. “Well, it seems we both owe Emma quite the debt. Knowing her, I’d rather not imagine what favor she expects in return.” He didn’t need his telepathy to know how much Erik agreed with the sentiment. They were both sitting ducks to her games now.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It astounded Erik how quickly Charles had become a part of the furniture. He didn’t mean it quite so literally— after all, they hardly saw each other during the week—but Erik had adjusted to his presence with an ease that he hadn’t expected at all.

He’d even go so far as to admit that he looked forward to their Saturday evenings spent together. Charles brought warmth to the apartment—not only with the wooden furniture and warm tones he’d gradually added to his bedroom—but with their shared conversation and his easy laughter.

He knew it was irrational, but he felt rather disappointed when Charles announced that he was going out the following evening.

“Raven’s visiting town for a few weeks,” Charles explained as he cleaned up his mess from dinner. Erik was still perched on a barstool, a fresh drink in hand. His eyes were bright with excitement, though it was no secret that he was fond of his sister. “We’re going for drinks at Hellfire, have you heard of it? Raven’s been there before– said it was rather nice.”

He had indeed heard of it before. However, Erik was only able to manage a small hum of confirmation as he swallowed a mouthful of scotch, his eyes following Charles as he bent over to load the dishwasher. They weren’t the same absurdly tight pair of blue jeans that he’d worn the first time they’d met, but they were snug enough to give Erik quite the distracting view.

Charles stood then, turning around to address him. Erik quickly flicked his eyes away. “You’re welcome to join us, of course. I think you and Raven would get along splendidly. And she’s single, you know.”

Erik smirked, meeting his gaze directly. “I’m sure she’d be lovely company for anyone inclined toward the fairer sex.”

Charles blinked, his mouth falling open slightly. A flush rose in his cheeks as he stumbled over an apology. “I’m terribly sorry, my friend. I was already well aware of your preference, how thoughtless of me.”

“It’s fine, Charles,” Erik said, his smirk widening. “Enjoy your night with your sister, just don’t make too much noise when you come back in.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Sunday morning, Erik was up making breakfast when he heard the front door close. Keeping his eyes on the eggs, he felt the time on the kitchen clock—entirely metal, of course—which told him it was a little after seven.

“You’re home early,” Erik called out, hearing the footsteps against the floorboards falter. They started again, drawing closer, until Charles joined him out in the living area. Erik slid the eggs onto a plate, along with some fried tomatoes and mushrooms, before looking up at his housemate.

Charles was blinking at him sleepily, leaning heavily on the back of a barstool. He was still dressed in his jeans—the absurdly tight ones, damn him—and a button-up navy shirt that made his eyes seem brighter. He’d neglected to do up the top few buttons, showing an angry red mark visible over his left collarbone. The metal spatula in Erik’s hand twisted, warping into an indistinguishable mess. Charles eyed it warily as Erik carefully put it in the sink to deal with later.

“Did you have a good time with your sister?” Erik asked, taking his things over to the dining table. His coffee and cutlery was already waiting for him there. He pointedly didn’t look at Charles, listening to him move around in the kitchen, flicking the kettle before he pulled a mug down from the cupboard.

“I did indeed,” he said after a long pause, sounding uncertain. Erik looked over, finally, to see Charles eyeing the sink thoughtfully. The spatula then. Erik had never been good at subtlety when angered. He wondered what Charles thought of it. “She only left late, and I thought it better to stay out for the evening than disturb you at such an unreasonable hour.” It was certainly more practical to go home with a stranger and spend the night there, of course. Not that it was Erik’s business. That was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all; it shouldn’t have bothered Erik in the slightest. Yet, _it did._

“Of course. Thank you for the consideration. I wouldn’t have minded though.” Erik took a large swallow of his coffee before looking over at him again. Charles was leaning against the counter now, mug of tea in hand, his expression troubled. They both remained silent for a long time; Erik getting through his breakfast slowly; Charles sipping at his tea. Compared to the comfortable quiet they shared during the week, this felt tense, the air seeming to thicken as the silence stretched on.

Once Erik had finished, he stacked the dishwasher, clearing his mess. Charles remained out of the way, still leaning against the counter. Erik felt his skin prickle with the weight of his gaze, though he refused to meet it. He worried what Charles might see there.

When he was done, he returned to his room without so much as a word to Charles, closing the door behind him. It was only once he’d dropped down onto his bed with an irritated huff that he realised he’d left the twisted lump of metal in the sink.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Telepathy practise. Setting up for future chapters and touching a bit on Erik's past. Oh, and Erik's power kink. Heh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started Honours last Monday, and OHYMYGAWD its gonna be a hectic year for me. I don't know how often my updates will be. I get minimal 'me' time while I study this year, so I'll try to spend those time slots writing fics. For now, I'll try to breeze through this. I know where this is going at least, which helps!

“You should be working on your mutation,” Erik told Charles over dinner one evening. A few days had passed since the Sunday-morning incident, and thankfully, nothing more had been said about it. They’d fallen back into their usual routine, both eager to put the unease behind them. Erik had plenty of other things niggling at the back of his mind, like Charles’ stubborn refusal to use his mutation.

“I haven’t forgotten about it,” Charles reassured him between mouthfuls. “I’ve just been busy. We have more important things to worry about, like a topic question for Hank.”

“He _is_ struggling to find a focus,” Erik agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t start working on your research. Even just a couple of short sessions each week would help. You want to complete your book, don’t you?” And Erik wants him to start using his telepathy, before he goes mad with rage over Charles’ wasted talents.

“Yes,” Charles admitted, albeit grudgingly. Erik knew avoidance when he saw it. It was lucky (though perhaps unlucky for Charles) that Erik had a stubbornness that could easily counteract that kind of attitude. “When would it suit you to start working on it?”

“Friday mornings, before we meet with Hank—we’re both free.” Erik had already acquired Charles’ schedule, courtesy of Emma. _For the sake of catering to Hank’s needs_ , he’d told her. She’d seen straight through him, of course. _She_ had no reservations about using her mutation. Erik wholeheartedly supported her use of it, provided she respected his boundaries, and thus far, she’d never given him a reason to mistrust her. “Also, Wednesday afternoons. We could also do small sessions at home in the evenings if the timing works, though that depends on what kind of environment you need to keep track of your findings.”

Charles eyed him thoughtfully. “You’re unexpectedly eager to do this.”

Erik shrugged, carefully averting his gaze. Once they went through with this, his odd fixation with power would no longer be a secret to Charles. Not power to be acquired for his own purposes—he had enough of that with his own mutation—but rather a fascination for those that could be his equal. It explained, in part, his attraction to Charles. The man’s exterior didn’t hurt the matter much either.

When Erik offered no explanation, Charles sighed in defeat. “I don’t need a specific setting. Regular meetings during the week would be ideal for keeping us moving at a regular pace, but I’m not averse to evening sessions, provided they don’t add any extra strain to our workloads.”

“I doubt I’d have much of a complaint there.” Reduced timetable and all. “I’ll leave that to your judgement – you have the larger work commitment between the two of us.”

Charles nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Erik cleared away his things, stacking the dishwasher. “What about tonight?” he asked Charles from across the kitchen. “We did miss a potential session this afternoon.” Charles would have a harder time avoiding it if Erik got the ball rolling. This way, he wouldn’t have a chance to reconsider.

Charles remained quiet for a long time, and Erik left him to his inner struggle, moving over to the couch to make himself comfortable. After banging around in the kitchen for a few minutes, Charles came over to join him.

“When would you like to do this?” he asked, bright eyes carefully watching Erik.

“Now?”

Charles nodded. “I have to warn you though, my friend. I haven’t used my telepathy for anything beyond shielding for a _very_ long time.”

Erik suppressed a flare of anger at the reminder. He’d always kept a firm philosophy that mutations should be embraced, enjoyed, _practiced,_ not suppressed the way Charles had done with his own. Though Erik certainly had the intent to change that.

“Do what you need to,” Erik said, tilting his head back against the couch and closing his eyes. For a moment, nothing changed, but eventually, he felt something press up against his mind. Charles. Either Charles really _was_ rusty, or he was trying to be courteous, because Emma had once told him that a good telepath could slip in and out of minds without the person ever realizing.

 _Am I being too rough?_ Charles asked him, his internal voice as gentle as his mental caress.

_Not at all. Are you trying to make your presence known deliberately?_

Nothing, and then, _Yes. Being that this is being done with consent, I’d rather you knew when I’m here and when I’m not._

Erik wondered if Charles was always so painfully considerate of everyone else. He realized a beat later that Charles would have heard that.

_It’s not so much a matter of consideration as it is good ethics. As an academic, you should be familiar with the protocol for live subjects._

Erik smirked. He was aware of them, but his subjects were generally inanimate and _metal._

 _Shouldn’t you have taken this up with the ethics committee before starting testing on me, then?_ Ordinarily, that would be an exceptionally interesting conversation to witness. In Genosha, the rules were a little different though. It was perhaps the only country with universities that would take mutations into consideration when considering ethics. Sure, there had been cases overseas where ‘studies’ had been done on mutants, but Erik knew firsthand that those weren’t always of the _lawful_ variety.

_You’re quite right, my friend. I lodged an application many months ago, and received approval, provided I could find willing subjects that understood exactly what was expected of them, how they would benefit, and so on. You should read the ethics guidelines; the first chapter is beautifully written._

Erik snorted aloud at that, opening his eyes to look over at Charles, who had his own head tilted back, eyes closed. _You, Charles, are by far the most striking example of a ‘professor’ that I’ve come across throughout my entire career._

Erik felt an echo of amusement, which didn’t seem to be his own. _How so?_ Charles asked.

 _Only_ you _would say that_ guidelines _were written beautifully, as though you were referring to poetry rather than protocol paperwork._

 _I think we’re getting rather off track now,_ Charles told him, obviously deflecting. Erik put his head back again, eyes closing, managing to suppress his chuckle, though he was sure Charles would have still felt his amusement.

 _Are you ready for me to move deeper?_ Charles asked, his presence warm and careful, a stark contrast to the cold, hard edges of Emma’s mind.

_Go ahead._

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Charles had long forgotten the pleasure of being submerged in a mind outside of his own. This was so very different from catching stray thoughts, far more invasive and strange, the patterns of Erik’s thoughts so different from his own.

Erik’s mind was beautiful. Brushing past the surface thoughts, he moved in deeper. There, he found vivid colors, all fiery and bright, focused and passionate. Charles had to fight the urge to be swept away by the gold and red and bronze waves of Erik’s _self_ , moving past it into another part of his mind. Erik’s memories would be the largest area to tackle—and one of the most important. Charles thought it would be best to move through them in the privacy of their home, leaving the more impersonal exercises for their on-campus sessions.

_I’m going to start with your memories. One of the main areas I want to investigate is how telepathy could be used for different forms of mental therapy, to treat conditions such as amnesia and maybe even dementia._

He felt a trickle of curiosity from Erik. _Wouldn’t you need to test this on patients suffering from one of those conditions to be sure that it works?_

_Yes, and I will eventually. After a great deal of back-and-forth with the ethics board again. As soon as I mention using participants with a disability or those that are considered part of a ‘vulnerable’ minority, the process becomes infinitely more difficult. So for now, I’ll have to experiment on you._

Erik smirked. _Very well. I can’t guarantee you’ll like everything you see though._

 _Who am I to judge?_ Though Charles wasn’t sure if he was talking more to Erik, or to himself. Concentrating, he began to sift through Erik’s memories, peeling away at layers as he started with those most recent, moving backwards in time.

Charles took notice of how each memory was shaped, how they shared similar qualities and where they differed. Starting with today, he scanned through things quickly, trying not to linger unless something seemed particularly vivid, or if a strong emotional response was linked to it. Those memories were the brightest, the strongest, the clearest.

He breezed over the last few days, nothing standing out, until he reached Sunday morning, where a spike of jealousy hit him. He saw himself, his collar carelessly left open to reveal the bruise-like marks spotting his skin. _Oh._ Charles hoped that he was keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself—something that seemed tricky to do while so deeply submerged into another mind—and quickly skipped on to the next memory.

From there, he was careful to move through them economically, briefly taking notes in the back of his mind (a brilliant perk of his mutation, which made storing information a breeze, hence his early graduation). He became quicker as he went along, until he started to reach some of Erik’s older memories, from months ago. There, Charles noticed obvious patterns, most of the memories seeming gray and dull compared to those from Erik’s immediate past.

 _We should stop for the evening,_ Charles told Erik, having gone as far back as the day they met. He had to suppress his own amusement at the memory, finding Erik’s thoughts and reactions to him charming.

After a hum of agreement from Erik, who had remained unexpectedly quiet throughout the process, he slowly disentangled himself from the other man’s mind, regaining a firmer sense of his own body once again. Charles was fascinated by his telepathy—if a little terrified of it—in how he could perform tasks in different ways, choosing to remain aware of his own body while sifting through another mind, or attaching his awareness to their body instead. The potential was staggering.

Charles blinked rapidly as he opened his eyes, giving Erik a smile as they turned to each other. “How do you feel?” Charles asked. “Any sign of a headache, any other side effects?”

Erik shook his head. “Sore neck, maybe. Otherwise it just felt like meditating. What were you doing in there exactly?”

“Going through your memories, observing the patterns and seeing how particular ones have different qualities to them. Less important ones seem dull, whereas those of importance are brightest, the most emotive, sometimes even the clearest. Those from a long time back will be less distinct, but I only went back by a few months.”

“Really? I had no idea what you were doing.”

Charles frowned. “You didn’t see the memories as I went through them?” Erik shook his head. “Oh, hang on, let me try something.”

Charles focused again, brushing over Erik’s mind and pulling forward the most recent memory of significance. Sunday morning. Bugger. Too late now though, Charles supposed. He felt a surge of embarrassment and anger from Erik, which told Charles that he’d managed to achieve what he’d intended. He let the memory slip away, opening his eyes again to look at Erik, who was eyeing him guardedly.

Charles, as he always did while nervous, started talking quickly. “I expected you to see them as we went along. That’s something I’ll have to practice another time. Though I suppose it would have its uses, to be able to sift through memories while the owner remains unaware. Certainly good for trauma, to be able to skip over certain things.”

Erik nodded, seeming relieved that Charles hadn’t made any comment on his memory. “It seems to me though, that you’re going to owe me an awful lot after this. I give you my memories—what do I get in return?”

Charles considered him. “Do you want to look through my memories? It’s not impossible, I suppose. I could project them, though it’d take double the amount of work, unless I managed to drag you into my mind, to work from the source.”

Erik shook his head. “Keep your memories. I have a better alternative.”

Charles’ head went decidedly off track, imagining all kinds of scenarios that could follow, thinking that the arrangement sounded an awful lot like the opening to a bad porno. He wouldn’t exactly protest the idea; Erik was an attractive man, and as Charles was starting to learn, he had a very lovely mind to go with the exterior.

So, he was a little disappointed when Erik said, “I want you to work on your telepathy. Train yourself to use it. Talk to Emma, practice on me, whatever it takes. Power like that shouldn’t be wasted on something as simple as _shielding_ yourself.”

Charles was confused. How would that benefit Erik? If anything, Erik would be spending more time as a lab rat for Charles’ sake. Curious, he reached out a tendril of thought—forgoing his usual courtesy of making his presence known—to touch Erik’s thoughts. What he found there wasn’t at all what he would have expected.

Passion, anger, a longstanding frustration toward mutant rights, and a blur of other emotions that all tangled together to form something that was clearly a vital part of Erik’s beliefs, if not his entire identity _._ And beneath all of that was a deep hunger. A fixation on power, though not in the way Charles would expect. Erik didn’t want the power for his own use—he was quite content with his own, in fact. No, ambition wasn’t the driving force here. It was lust. A kind Charles had never encountered before. Dark and beautiful and so very _complex._ Charles could pick at it all day.

Instead, he pulled back, sliding his shields back into place. It was a relief, almost, after the ferocity of the hurricane swirling in Erik’s mind. Beautiful and dangerous, rather like the man himself.

“That seems more to my benefit, than yours,” Charles argued. “Surely, there’s something else.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “I can put the rent up if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Oh, well I suppose that would–”

“Stop talking, Charles,” Erik interrupted him. “I was joking. About the rent, in any case. Just work on your telepathy. I’m sure it’ll benefit me down the line, somewhere, even if only by accident.”

Charles sighed. It seemed Erik was even _more_ stubborn than he was. Raven would have a field day with him. “Very well, then. I should speak to Emma about it before I start playing around with your head.”

“Good,” Erik said with a nod, rising from the couch. He started to walk away, but paused near the dining table. “Oh, and Charles? Don’t hold back because you’re afraid that something’s too much for me. Whatever you can do to me, it won’t be anything that hasn’t already been done by someone else before.” And with that, he left Charles alone, his words hanging in the air. It was impossible not be a little curious. What had happened in Erik’s past to stir up such a strong sentiment? Was it linked to Erik’s fixation?

Charles found himself looking forward to returning to Erik’s memories again, though this time, for reasons a little less academic.  
  
  
  
\---

 

A/N: Just a minor self-promo. If you haven't sussed it out yet, I'm also working on another Cherik fic. Link under my profile. ;) Here's the promo art: 

  


(No shame. Not sorry. Heh.) On a serious note, my updates will be split between the two!


	5. Burn You Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update. Yay for long chapter. Double hooray for porn.  
> I haven't properly edited the second half of this, so apologies for any flaws. Thanks as always for all the feedback!

Erik was already waiting when Charles arrived for their regular session with Hank. Their student, however, was nowhere in sight.

“You’re early,” Charles commented as he slid into the seat beside Erik. His housemate was playing idly with a piece of metal, floating it in the air at eye level as he pulled it apart and changed its shape, only to twist it into something else. It was fascinating to watch.

“I haven’t been here long,” Erik admitted, glancing at him briefly. “I thought wonder kid would’ve been here already.”

“Something must have held him up,” Charles said. He took a sip of his tea, only to cringe as he discovered it was almost cold. Coincidentally, Charles’ phone vibrated in his pocket with a message. From Hank.

“He’s half an hour away, got caught up with an appointment. Do you mind waiting?”

Erik shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere to be. We need to work on the focus for Hank’s thesis, so we can’t really cancel today.”

Charles nodded his agreement. “He’s full of ideas, but it needs refining. What do you propose we do while we wait?”

Erik continued to play with his metal for a moment, remaining silent. Then, he formed it into a ball and lowered it to rest in his palm. “How about we practice your telepathy? Not just the stuff you did the other day for your book. You _did_ agree to experiment with its other uses,” Erik reminded him, his mouth tweaking up on one side.

“Oh, well, I suppose we could. What would you suggest?”

Erik looked at him sideways. “What can you do?”

Charles shifted in his seat, feeling self-conscious under Erik’s assessing gaze. “Well … I don’t really know. I’ve focused solely on my shielding for years now. I can hear surface thoughts easily enough with a little focus, that’s really just the standard level of my ability. We explored my ability to go through memories during our last session. That’s probably the most advanced task I’ve used it for.”

“Have you spoken to Emma? Researched the abilities of other telepaths? The general conception is that telepaths simply read thoughts, but you and I know that someone at your level should be able to do far more than that. You’ve proved as much already.”

“Well, it’s possible that I could tamper with a mind. Change someone’s thoughts, influence them. Erase a memory.”

“Let’s start with that then. Tell me something, erase the memory, and then ask me to tell you what it was.”

Charles hesitated. “I’ve never taken a memory before. What if I accidentally remove the wrong one? What if it does some other kind of damage? Tears your mind apart, or leaves scars, or—”

“ _Charles._ ” Erik was giving him a look that suggested he was about three seconds away from an eye roll. Charles rather wished he was taking the risk more seriously. “I trust you. Let’s just get on with it.”

Charles took a deep breath and let it out in a loud sigh. _Stubborn, foolish man_. “Very well then. Um … _oh,_ I’ve got it. I’ll tell you a color and you can tell me what it is when I ask you.”

Erik nodded.

“Right, well then. Something not too obvious. Oh,” Charles spotted one on a poster behind Erik. “ _Magenta._ ”

Erik raised his eyebrows, but made no further comment other than to say, “Okay, go ahead then.”

Charles nodded and focused in on Erik, letting his shields slide out of place for now. And _oh,_ Charles had already forgotten how beautiful Erik’s mind was. Rich and vibrant with weaving strands of color that shaped his thoughts and weaved around them. Charles regretfully sank deeper, following the threads that led back to the space in Erik’s mind that held his memories. It was easy enough to find their conversation. From there, Charles wasn’t sure what to do.

For safety’s sake, he formed a shield around the memory, cutting it off from the rest of Erik’s mind, hopeful that any alterations wouldn’t ripple back through the rest of his mind. Then, Charles _pulled,_ breaking the memory away from the threads that surrounded it, tearing it away. The threads immediately snapped back together, the memory disintegrating as it separated. Charles felt a pang of discomfort from Erik, and immediately pulled back into his own mind.

“Are you okay?” Charles asked, blinking as he focused back on the room, and the man seated beside him.

Erik grimaced. “I might have a headache, but otherwise I feel okay. Did it work?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I think so. Though if it’s causing you discomfort I may have to reconsider the technique. What color did I tell you?”

Erik’s brow furrowed, a crease appearing in the middle. “I don’t know. Blue?”

Charles shook his head. “Magenta.”

“Must’ve done something right then.”

Or something _wrong,_ Charles thought. He already felt an unpleasant curl in his stomach at the thought of his ability causing pain. That it was _Erik_ seemed to make it even worse. Testing his abilities was starting to seem more and more like a terribly bad idea, though Charles had been opposed to it from the beginning.

“Try it again,” Erik told him, just as Charles opened his mouth to suggest the _opposite._

“Absolutely not.”

Erik _did_ roll his eyes this time, his mouth thinning out. Charles was starting to recognize the expression now; this wasn’t the first time he’d seen Erik’s stubbornness come out during their weeks living together. Charles hadn’t made any further suggestions about the laundry since the last incident.

“Do it again, Charles. My head’s fine now. There may come a time one day when you need it to save your skin, or someone else’s. The last thing you’d want to do is risk getting caught if it’s on an unwilling subject.”

Charles snorted. “What, are you expecting me to join up with the CIA one day? I wouldn’t use my telepathy for such a purpose, its unethical, and I highly doubt I’d ever put myself in such a position to begin with.”

Erik shook his head. “That’s the problem Charles, you _don’t_ use your telepathy for anything _._ Your gift might give you the opportunity to save someone’s life one day, but what good would it do if you don’t know how to use it? How would you feel, knowing you could’ve made a difference, but didn’t, because you were too afraid, too _stubborn_ to move past your own fears?”

“Alright, _fine._ But if you so much as get anything more than a mild headache you’ll tell me or so help me I’ll make sure I put a colored sock in with your whites next time I do the laundry.”

Erik’s mouth lifted at that, his earlier expression melting away in an instant. “Go ahead then.”

“Very well, _green_ this time.” Charles focused in on Erik again, sifting through to his recent memories. He found the thread of thought easily enough, but passed it to find the one he’d torn before. The two severed ends were drifting loose, and with a thought, Charles linked them back together, watching with amazement as they regained the luminosity they had lost before. Satisfied, Charles returned to his other goal. He pondered for a moment, considering an alternative method to his first attempt. After a moment, he brushed over the thread, painting it with his own invented memory. In this reality, the color he’d told Erik was once again _magenta._

Charles blinked, coming back to himself. He jumped when he realized they were no longer alone. “Welcome back,” Erik said with a smirk. “Hank was worried about your wellbeing.”

“Sorry Hank, I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

Hank shrugged, “Only a minute or so. I tried talking to you, but you were unresponsive. Professor Lehnsherr explained what you were doing. It sounds fascinating. I’d actually like to run some ideas past you if I could.”

“Of course, Hank. But first, how do you feel Erik? Any discomfort?”

Erik shook his head. “Fine. Nothing like last time. And the color is Magenta.”

Charles grinned. “Excellent. The color was actually green. I changed the memory.”

Erik gave him a nod, a small smile surfacing. “Nicely done.”

Charles was more than a little relieved by Hank’s interruption, grateful for the excuse to stop the exercise. While it had barely scraped the surface of his abilities, Charles still felt an uncomfortable twinge whenever he used his telepathy, and he knew it was purely guilt, even with the use of a willing subject. Exploring Erik’s mind for the sake of his research was one thing, but _altering_ it felt intrusive and unnatural. Even so, he doubted Erik would leave the subject untouched for long.

“What did you want to discuss, Hank?” Charles asked as the younger student sank into a chair on the other side of the lab bench.

“Well, I have an idea for a project. The only thing was, I needed a telepath for it to work.”

Charles smiled knowingly. “And here I am on a silver platter, so to speak. What’s the project?”

“A device that expands the telepath’s range. He, or she, could use it to communicate globally, reaching out during a crisis, or to find other mutants living in difficult situations. Find them, and offer them help.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Erik said, rolling the ball of metal from earlier between his palms. “There’s a lot of kids out there that still aren’t accepted by their families, or that are struggling to control their gift. A telepath, or a group of them, could certainly use it to help with difficult cases.”

Charles was frowning by that point though, considering the other side of the coin. “It could also be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands. Global mind control, stealing government secrets; the risks are endless. Telepathy is feared widely enough already. Not to mention the government would likely use it to monitor all of us, reducing our privacy even further than our online accounts and communication.”

Hank visibly deflated at that. “You’re right. I was thinking about it too narrowly. I didn’t consider the outcome of the device being made more widely available.”

Charles gave him an encouraging smile. “Don’t discount the idea entirely. It could still be useful, just perhaps … on a smaller, less official scale.”

Erik raised his eyebrows at him. “Charles, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Charles shrugged. “I’d hate to see Hank’s bright ideas go to waste. It’s just a matter of choosing the right application for them. It just so happens to fall into place with some of my own ideas, which I’d rather hoped to implement later down the track. So we’ll just leave it on the backburner for the moment. At the present, we still need to refine Hank’s thesis focus.”

“Well, I do have a few other ideas. I’d just need to get ethical clearance for them first,” Hank started.

Charles sighed. Ethics were a bloody nightmare. Erik was smirking at him, as if _he_ was the telepath in the room.

“What did you have in mind, Hank?”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The following Saturday, Charles announced that he was once again going out for the night with his sister. Much the same as the last time, he extended an invitation for Erik to join them. After brief consideration, Erik agreed, remembering Charles’s disheveled return the morning after. The memory was closely followed by thoughts of sabotage, though Erik would never admit it.

Charles joined him for their usual dinner together, already dressed for the evening in a white shirt that fit tightly across his shoulders with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Erik swallowed noisily as he took in the devious pair of jeans that did sinful things for Charles’s thighs and ass. He thanked himself for agreeing to go, already imagining having to fend off the hordes of the nightclubs from Charles.

Erik didn’t look half bad himself, he had to admit, dressed in a black shirt and equally well-fitted jeans. Emma had once told him that black was his color, as equally as white was hers. Not surprising, given their personalities, opposing each other like light and dark.

“We’re meeting Raven at a bar to begin with,” Charles told him in the cab ride over. Erik could smell his cologne in the confined space, sharp and fresh, and almost made himself dizzy from breathing in too much too quickly. Quietly, mind you. Erik most certainly _did_ _not_ breathe heavily like the creep that sat two rows back from him on the bus every morning.

“I thought you two went to nightclubs,” Erik said.

Charles smiled at him in the near dark, face lit only by the passing lights, his eyes glinting with their reflection. “Oh don’t worry, we’ll end up there soon enough. Raven just likes to catch up first, and it’s easier to hear each other speak in a bar than a raging nightclub. Consider it our pre-drinks.”

“I wouldn’t have thought noise would be an issue for you when it comes to communication,” Erik told him, tapping his temple in suggestion.

Charles’s smile dimmed. “Raven isn’t overly fond of the idea.”

 _Even my sister has made it clear that I’m to keep out._ Erik could hear the words echoing in his mind. His mouth thinned out into a line as he frowned. “I see. You needn’t have such boundaries with me this evening, Charles.” No boundaries in other areas too, preferably. “You can speak to me directly at any time, if you need to.”

Charles regarded him warmly, his smile brightening once again. _Thank you, Erik,_ came the thought, spoken directly into his mind. Erik felt a thrill run through him, that dark hunger he kept buried in a deep place threatening to surface.

Tonight was surely going to be a disaster. Perhaps he just wouldn’t drink.

Such a resolution was quickly dissolved as Charles bought them the first round. They grabbed a table at the back, Raven not yet in sight. Erik wasn’t sure what to expect of her, or what to look for. Charles had told him some time ago that she liked to change up her appearance often, not surprising in light of her gift.

Charles visibly straightened mid-conversation by the time they’d finished their first drinks, a blonde woman beaming as she sauntered over to them. More than a few pairs of eyes followed her, looking dazzling as she did in a sequined blue dress. Erik, however, wasn’t one of them. His eyes instead followed Charles as he stood up to meet her across the room, shamelessly admiring the fit of Charles’s jeans over the curve of his ass. Charles gestured back at the table as he said something to his sister, Raven looking over her brother’s shoulder to smile at Erik. He nodded to her, and she came over to their table, Charles ducking back off to the bar to presumably order another round.

“You must be the gorgeous housemate,” Raven said with a wink, sliding into the chair beside him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Charles speaks about you a lot.”

Erik filed away the information for later, politely shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet the infamous sister at long last.” Raven laughed. “How much longer are you in town?”

“I head back to New York in a couple of weeks. I’m thinking about moving over here, to see more of Charles. I wanted to get a feel for the place first though.”

“And, what do you think of Genosha?” Erik was looking over her shoulder at the bar, where Charles was now speaking to a man. Too buff for Erik’s liking, but he had a bad feeling that the lumberjack-looking guy would be within the field of Charles’s tastes.

“I really like it. The community is so much more supportive here than back home. I mean, mutant acceptance is slowly on the rise, but it’s nothing like what’s going on around here. I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking around New York in my natural form, but here? Blue is just another shade on the spectrum, alongside the other visible mutations.”

Erik nodded. “It’s a big leap from human-dominated countries. The laws here are more inclined to mutant protection, and Genosha has the highest mutant population. It’s the safest place for a mutant to make a life for themselves.”

Charles was coming back over to them now, a light flush on his cheeks. He slid Erik’s glass across to him before sliding back into his seat.

“Make a new friend?” Erik asked, reaching for the glass as he found his mouth dry.

Charles ran a hand through his hair as Raven slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “I only just got here, Charles! Can’t you keep your pants on for five minutes?”

Erik tried his best to keep his face impassive, blood heating at the thought of other hands on Charles, of his face flushed, lips wet and bitten. He took another long drink from his glass.

 “Don’t be absurd, Raven. He was merely being friendly.” Charles glanced at Erik briefly, thumbing the edge of his untouched glass. “Besides, I’m here with company. I wouldn’t be so rude as to run off so early in the evening.”

“Hasn’t stopped you from doing it to me before,” Raven said with raised eyebrows. “You must be one heck of a guy,” she told Erik. How he was supposed to interpret that, he wasn’t sure. Charles said nothing, sipping at his drink.

“What have you being doing with yourself while you’re here then?” Erik asked her, Raven all too happy to launch into a recount of her trip. A sense of appreciation brushed against the edge of his mind, and he looked over to see Charles nod his thanks as Raven waved her hands animatedly. Erik gave him a discreet smile, nodding along to Raven to show that he was still listening.

An hour—and several rounds of drinks—later, they walked the few blocks down the street to the _Hellfire Club_. They didn’t have to wait in line for long, other mutants ahead of them dressed to flaunt their more unique features.

 _Rumor has it, they don’t let humans in. I haven’t seen anyone turned away during my visits here, but the human population is considerably low, and I imagine their reputation is widely known enough to stop them from trying,_ Charles told him as security waved them through.

Erik gave him a nod, having little to say about it. The opposite had been quite popular in some of the human-dominated countries he’d lived in, and the rule hadn’t been limited to just nightclubs. There were more than enough mutant supremacists in Genosha; clearly, the owner of Hellfire was once such mutant.

The nightclub was significantly louder, as Erik had expected. Raven led the way to the bar, her dress flashing under the waves of pulsing neon lights. Even so, she wasn’t the most eye-catching one here. Erik and Charles looked practically bland in their shirts and jeans when compared against most of the crowd.

Erik remained close to Charles as they downed the line of shots Raven slid across to them, though if the latter minded the closeness, he didn’t show it. Erik supposed that he was used to it; personal space was a myth in nightclubs.

For a short while, they were content to remain at the sidelines as they took in the crowded club. They watched the colorful dancers up on the various small stages around the club, male and female alike, bodies twisting and swaying in time with the music.

Erik had never been to _Hellfire_ himself, and compared to the other nightclubs he’d visited, this was practically erotic. Perhaps it was just all the visible mutations, singing to that deeper part of his mind, but the atmosphere here was something else entirely, like a spell that was slowly dragging him under, an exotic beast swallowing him whole.

 _Shall we?_ Charles asked, eyes trained on the swaying bodies spread across the dancefloor. Erik was practically buzzing by now, having lost count of his drinks before they’d even left the bar. He allowed Charles to pull him and Raven across the room, and they were soon sandwiched together in the crowd, Charles dancing between them.

Erik was burning.

Some very quiet, distant and _sober_ part of him cried that this was a terrible idea, that he should have _stayed at home._ However, the thought was squashed before it could form by the hypnotizing sway of Charles’s hips, of his exposed neck, so close that Erik itched to run his fingers along the expanse of it.

Raven and Charles were laughing as they bumped together, holding onto each other to remain upright. Erik, who cringed away from dancing as a rule, couldn’t care less about such reservations as he watched the Xavier siblings move together. In truth, while he could appreciate Raven’s luminance, it was Charles who really shone for him, his eyes sparkling with delight as he licked his lips.

It wasn’t long before Raven was swept away by a woman dressed just as eye-catchingly in a shiny, gold dress. They looked otherworldly moving together, Raven’s mouth taking on a mischievous tilt. They were soon swallowed up by the crowd, leaving Erik alone with Charles.

The shorter professor rotated on the spot, turning his full attention to Erik in the absence of his sister. He felt Charles’s fingertips running up his sides as they moved together, those blue eyes intense as they remained locked on Erik’s. It felt quite natural to shift his hands to Charles, sliding them across his shoulder and down his back.

They were eventually pressed almost flush together by the crush of bodies around them. Erik felt sweat running along his neck, and watched a bead of it run down Charles’s lip, a wet tongue moving out to lick it away.

Erik didn’t see any harm in having a taste of it himself.

Charles’s lips were damp and soft, salty with the fine sweat that lingered on his skin. The fingers on his sides tightened grasped his shirt as Charles opened up beneath him, lips parting as he chased the movements of Erik’s tongue. Now, Erik could taste the sweetness of their earlier shots at the bar, clashing against the bitter remains of whiskey from before. Erik cursed the pulsing music, drowning out the small sounds he imagined that Charles was making. But this would do for now, this was _divine._

It was no surprise that Erik was starting to ache already, his erection trapped harshly by the tight fit of his jeans. He ignored it in favor of exploring Charles’s mouth, savoring the soft glide of his lips and tongue.

An image was pressed into his mind of a small, dark room, followed by a suggestion. Erik couldn’t agree quickly enough. Charles smirked at him as they separated, grabbing Erik’s hand as he pulled him purposefully through the crowd. The room swirled around the edges of Erik’s vision, his senses run ragged by the taste and feel of Charles.

Charles led him through a maze of back rooms and corridors, Erik knowing he could only imagine what kinds of things went on back here. Couples and small groups littered the passageways, none of them giving Charles or Erik a second look as they passed by.

Finally, Charles stopped outside a simple looking door. He tested the handle, finding it locked. _Would you mind?_ he asked Erik, and a simple flick of his power was all it took to undo the lock.

Charles pulled him inside, quickly closing the door behind him to seal them in darkness, cutting off most of the noise from the club. Charles muttered something, fumbling around in the dark, which was followed by a delighted exclamation as a light came on.

Erik blinked, taking in what appeared to be a closet. “ _Really_ , Charles? _”_ Erik said, shaking his head with a wry smile.

“It’s this or wait until we get home,” Charles told him with a raised eyebrow, licking his lips. Erik needed no further argument, closing the gap between them as he snaked an arm around Charles’s waist, pulling them flush together.

“That’s what I thought,” Charles said with a smirk. Erik quickly wiped the expression away with a searing kiss. This one held none of the sensual grace of their earlier encounter out on the dancefloor, almost bruising in its intensity. Just as Erik had imagined, Charles made the most delicious sounds as he pulled him apart with his lips and tongue.

Erik felt hands fumbling at his belt, and a moment later, it was yanked open, the same dexterous fingers moving to attack the button and zip. Erik pulled away to suck in a sharp breath as one of Charles’s hands moved in past the denim, brushing against his cock. With the inhale came the sharp scent of Charles’s cologne, enhanced further by the heat and sweat caused from their dancing. Erik moved down to Charles’s neck, tongue snaking out to lick the moisture gathered there, tasting salt and skin. Charles groaned against him, fumbling as he pulled Erik all the way out from the confines of his pants and underwear. Erik pulled at his earlobe with a sharp canine before moving back down towards the base of Charles’s neck, pulling the shirt aside to gain access to his collarbone. This time, Charles would be wearing _his_ bites the next morning. The thought of it sent a thrill through him, sending his hips forward into Charles’s firm grasp.

Charles pulled away from him then, but before Erik could protest, he’d fallen to his knees, bringing his lips dangerously close to Erik’s cock. Charles licked his lips, looking up at Erik with eyes that remained startlingly blue even beneath the dim light, his cheeks flushed beautifully with color. Erik let out a sharp exhale, running his thumb along Charles’s wet bottom lip, even as his head throbbed beneath the weight of far too many drinks.

Charles smiled at him before moving to lick up Erik’s length, showing no hesitation as he wrapped his lips around the tip before moving to suck him down. Erik let out a harsh groan as he wrapped his fingers in Charles’s dark hair, lost in the wet heat of his mouth, red lips stretched around his girth. The sight was more erotic than he could have imagined by himself, on the rare nights that he’d allowed himself to indulge in the thought of Charles like this.

Charles never faltered, enthusiastically moving up and down his length, hooded eyes flicking up to Erik so often, otherwise entirely absorbed in the task. Each time Charles moaned around him Erik was forced to bite back a curse, worried that someone passing by might hear him, even with the lock fused firmly together in the door to prevent interruptions.

A warm presence brushed against his mind, bringing with it a wave of arousal that matched his own, and a sense of great satisfaction. Erik came before he could so much as think to utter a warning to Charles. It didn’t seem to bother Charles though, who swallowed around him greedily, lapping at the tip until Erik pulled him away, the sensitivity becoming too much.

Erik tucked himself away as Charles rose back to his feet, swaying a little as his stiff knees seemed to protest. Erik pulled him in close again when he was upright, licking the taste of himself from Charles’s mouth.

“What do you want me to do?” Erik said beside his ear before moving to trail openmouthed kisses along his flushed neck. Charles moaned against him, fingers trailing up Erik’s spine.

 _Right now, your hand would probably do. I’m not far from coming if you keep that up_. The thought was accompanied by the knowledge that Charles had an extremely sensitive neck and scalp. Erik filed that information away for later, using his power to undo Charles’s zip as he wound his fingers back into the brunette’s hair, tongue still lavishing attention on the skin of his lightly freckled throat.

True to his word, Charles didn’t last long. A few pulls were all it took before a sticky warmth coated Erik’s fingers and the floor. He licked it up, savoring the taste of Charles on his skin.

Charles was attempting to smooth himself out, looking utterly disheveled, his red lips swollen and wet from their harsh kisses. Erik felt a swell of satisfaction as he noticed the bruises already starting to form on Charles’s pale skin, exposed by his askew collar, the third button having come undone in their haste.

 _Shall we?_ Charles asked, heading for the door. Erik nodded, his tongue feeling thick and head throbbing again as he came down from the high of his release. He needed water, and possibly ten days of sleep.

 _I might head home,_ Erik projected to him, not thinking much of the expression that crossed Charles’s face before he nodded, taking off down the winding hall once the light had been switched off and the door relocked.

_I’m going to find Raven, which could take some time. Go ahead, I’ll get a cab later._

Erik, thinking only of home and his soft bed, nodded his agreement, watching Charles disappear into the crowd. He found his way back to the entrance, and it didn’t take long for him to hail a cab and make his way home.

The apartment was dark and cold when he stepped in. Using his gift, he flicked a couple of lights on, just enough for him to retrieve a glass of water from the kitchen and make it into the bedroom. He left the hallway light of for Charles, his door left open a fraction, just in-case.

It wasn’t until after Erik had stripped off and crawled into bed that he wondered why Charles hadn’t just used his telepathy to find Raven and say his farewells. After all, she’d had company of her own.

The alcohol dragged him down into a deep slumber before he could think much more of it. 

\-----

Also, what the boys are wearing, because image porn always required:

 


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